


Come Rain or Come Shine

by jawsandbones



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Just some happy sex, all the affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-23 01:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11392671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jawsandbones/pseuds/jawsandbones
Summary: A series of snippets about Fenris and Hawke giving each other some much needed love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You're gonna love me like nobody's loved me  
> Come rain or come shine  
> Happy together, unhappy together  
> And won't it be fine?  
> Days may be cloudy or sunny  
> We're in or we're out of the money  
> But I'll love you always  
> I'm with you rain or shine  
> Rain or shine

His hands clench into fists, stiff at his side. The wall is cold against his back, but the fire is steady – filling the room with gentle light, softer heat. He runs a shaking hand through his hair as she presses a kiss to his thigh. One hand on his hip while the other is trailing along the back of his leg, fingertips tracing a gentle pattern up and down. He looks to the fire, and down at her, then quickly shifts his gaze to the ceiling when her eyes suddenly open and look at him. He hears her soft chuckle, feels her smile against his leg. “This is – are you sure?” He asks.

“Of course I am,” she says. Massaging her hands against his thighs as she leans back where she’s kneeling, tilts her head as she looks up at him. “Are you not?” He feels the flush from his neck cascade into his cheeks, a burning red he cannot be rid of. “Fenris, if you’re not comfortable with something, you need to tell me.”

“It is not that I am _un_ comfortable, it is – I do not see how you could enjoy it,” he tells her. Still on her knees, she moves upwards, wrapping her arms around his waist and peppering his belly in kisses. She’s smiling when she looks up at him, her chin pressing into him.

“I like making you feel good,” she says. “Trust me Fen, I _will_ enjoy this.”

“I know that it is meant to be pleasurable but I – I’ve always seen it done by those of lower status to those of greater status –” Faster than he could have imagined, she’s on her feet and her hands on his face. Holding him tightly as she roughly kisses him, silencing him in the middle of speaking. She’s still holding his face when they break apart, and she has her forehead pressed against his.

“Fenris,” she says, “we’re not of unequal status. I love you and I’m fairly confident you love me.” She puts a finger on his lips when he goes to speak. “This is something I want to do for you.” She kisses him quietly, gently, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “This isn’t Tevinter.” She reminds him of this in a soft tone. Leaning against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, threading a hand through his hair. He lets his head fall onto her shoulder as he holds her hips, listening to her breathe.

“Trust me,” she tells him again, kissing the edge of his jaw. Playfully teasing his earlobe between her teeth, a trail of kisses down his neck. Her hands moving over his shoulders, down his arms, momentarily twisting their fingers together as her mouth finds his. Planting a smaller kiss over the longer one, as though she is sowing a reminder, sealing a promise. Fingertips walking along his ribs, her hands slipping between them, wrapping a hand around the base of his stiffening cock.

His hands move downwards, over the supple roundness of her ass, and there they settle. “I do trust you,” he tells her between kisses, “and I love you.” He feels her smile against him, watches as she slips from his grasp to kneel before him once again. She leans into his touch when he brushes a hand against her cheek, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Hawke is many things to him. Some complicated knot, unable to be unraveled, twisting and winding together to sit in his chest, bound around his heart. Lover and friend, soldier and mage, a sort of freedom, a length of willing chain.

Her teeth nip at his inner thigh, a kiss over the marks she leaves. Her hand is working at him slowly, pumping at his cock, her thumb teasing at the head of him. Her other hand is at his hip, holding him steady as she tilts her head upwards, runs her tongue along the underside of him. All he can manage is a shaking inhale. His cock twitches as she breathes on it, an unbearable heat. It’s the groan that makes her smile, her hand holding him steady as her tongue dabs at the tip. He nearly loses control when she locks eyes with him, licks her lips.

His head leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his face. His fingers bite into his palm as he focuses on breathing, even as her hand is expertly moving up and down, her tongue dancing over the head of him. He can’t hold in the groan that escapes him when she finally moves her mouth over him, sealing her mouth over his cock. Shy as he just barely moves his arms to see the way her cheeks hollow, her eyes closed and focused on her task.

She makes it seem like she is a worshipper at prayer. Her thumb runs over the line of his hip, while the other still holds him, keeping him still and tight while her mouth works at him. Her cheeks are flushed pink, a blush that creeps down her neck and settles on her chest. Her tongue presses at the slit, wraps around the head, taking all he has. He slowly tries to relax himself, one fist against that wall, while the other hand falls to her head.

Her eyes open, looking up at him half-lidded, half drunk on lust. He runs his fingers through her hair as he slowly starts to bend. Away from that wall and over her, his shoulders hunched and his jaw gritted together. He has a flash of momentary horror when he can’t stop the automatic buck of his hips, but she moans and he gasps at the feel of it rumbling over his cock. Her hand runs over his stomach, and she feels him tense underneath her touch. “H-Hawke, I can’t – I have to – Hawke,” the words are tangled in his throat, giving the only warning he can.

She doesn’t move away from him, and she increases the tempo in which she moves. Holding tight to his hip, to the back of his thigh, making sure he can’t pull away. Her tongue is unbearable, her mouth so warm, and all that she touches is fire and – and – breathing hard as he spills his seed, his eyes closing. Opening them just in time to see her lean back, a finger at her mouth as she swallows all he has to offer. She rises to her feet with a sly grin on her face.

Hands on his shoulders, running fingers through his hair. “Do you want a kiss?” she asks. Wrapping arms around her waist, pulling her close, rubbing his nose affectionately against hers. Looking her square in the eye, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Gross,” he says flatly. She sputters before surging forward, lips smacking together with a playful and exaggerated kiss. She squeezes his cheeks together as she throws back her head and laughs. In one fell swoop, Fenris throws her over his shoulder as she yelps, and tosses her onto the bed. He stretches out over her, biting back the smile as he pins her wrists underneath his hands.

“Did you like it?” She asks.

“I did,” he tells her. She struggles out of his grasp, reaching up and pulling him down, wrapping her legs around his waist. Pressing a kiss to his temple, feeling her gently and lightly scratch his head. Lifting himself up slightly, white hair like a veil around her.

“My turn,” he says.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ah. Mm.” A hand winds into a length of vine and root, knuckles white and holding far too tightly. Teeth at her bottom lip, biting hard with eyes closed and head tilting back. A strand of hair crosses her face, but she pays it no mind. Other hand at his shoulder, sliding over skin. A bare leg is wrapped around his waist. The other still in an armored boot, holding hostage her pants. That one keeps lower, against the back of his leg. His hands underneath her thighs, holding her tightly, rubbing his nose against her cheek. Listening to her breathe, the small mewling noises she’s trying to hide.

Her hand moves up his shoulder, to his neck. Fingers play with the loose wisps of hair at his nape. His breastplate lies with her gauntlet and the armored piece that holds her hood. The remains of an attempt to undress, evidence of their distraction. They’ve found a small nook by the river, built into that cliff. Underneath a willow tree, the last light of day filtering through the leaves, reflecting on the water. Gentle rain beginning to fall, the lightest of things. Birds in distant branches, chattering to each other. The crickets are beginning to call their song, matching harmonies with the frogs hiding in the reeds. All interrupted by a simple, “ah! Ow. Fuck.”

“What is it – Did I–?”

“No, no. Rock in my backside.”

“Did you want to stop?”

“Maker, no! This is the first time we’ve managed to be alone for ages. I’m not letting that go to waste,” she says. Wriggling her hips until the rock slips free, wrapping her arms around his neck. Running a hand through his hair, pulling him into a kiss. Teeth nipping at his lip, tongue taking advantage of his surprise. Fenris slowly resumes their pace, thrusting up inside of her. Her cunt clenches around him as though the pause had been unbearable, and she shifts so that the heel of her foot presses against his ass. All encouraging tightness, her head resting on his shoulder.

His feet planted against ground, pants only just barely down. Just enough. Adjusting his grip on her as she braces herself back against rock, making sure that his gauntlets do not hurt her. “Is this okay?” he asks. He feels Hawke’s face nuzzle against his neck, teeth against flesh, kissing the mark she leaves.

“Feels… good,” she tells him, tone low and half whispered. Something in the way she says it makes his cock twitch, his hips snapping against hers. “Don’t stop.” Fingers twisting his hair, her other hand wrapped in his tunic. “Please don’t stop. Fen you feel so good.” Her voice grows quieter and quieter until it’s simply unintelligible murmurs and moans.

He’d missed the closeness of it all. Of her. They had been worked to exhaustion during the day, collapsing in separate aravels at night. Hawke was always busy with one thing or next, helping Merrill do this and that for her clan. How many times had they gone up and down Sundermount? Staring at each other across the fire, willing his limbs to silence to stop himself from going to her side. He found himself wanting, craving, her company – unfettered by others.

He wanted all those small touches amongst the larger ones. He wanted the talks they had curled up in bed together. Waking to her scent, to her smile. Shyly reaching for her hand to hold as they walked through Kirkwall, allowing himself this one simple pleasure. How eagerly she would return his touch, smiling as she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Surrendering to him utterly in their home, wrapped up in each other and always, always, asking him exactly what he wanted. His answer would be the same: her, always her.

It was he who pulled her away from the camp, who had found the river. He had reached for her and given one small kiss. Pulling away for the barest of moments, to simply look at her. The way her cheeks had flushed pink, the way she had instantly turned pliant in his arms. He had been unable to stop himself from devouring her utterly, brow furrowed and hands seeking, needing to feel more, more, all of her in his embrace. Clothes had been shed haphazardly, barely, after that. Needing each other more than they needed to be naked.

For so long he had been alone out of necessity. Now – now he fills all that empty space with her.

“Hawke.” Raising her head at the sound of his voice, pressing her forehead against his. Closing his eyes as he gently rubs her nose with his before he seeks the kiss. She smells like pine and earth, all the things they had been living amongst with the clan. Still, the lavender lingers, hanging on the edges of her. Tasting of berries and sweeter things, tongue wet and warm against his. Labored breathing in between each shift, as though his kiss had stolen the very air from her lungs.

She tells him often, how much she loves him. She doesn’t need to say it. He sees it in everything she does. He wonders if she knows what exactly it is she’s given him. Not just her heart, but the meaning of freedom, some normalcy, a little peace he can call his own. He is loyal to her outside of loyalty, and he’s not quite sure he can show her _exactly_ , or if he deserves such happiness – “I know that look,” she says. A thumb brushing against his cheekbone, a finger pressing at the knot in his brow.

“Get used to being happy,” she tells him, her legs tightening around his waist. She braces herself back against the rock, balances herself by holding onto that branch once again. Securely in place she aggressively moves her hips against his at a breakneck pace, the heat of her cunt so blinding, so tight, pulling him out of his last lingering thought. “I’ll never hurt you.” She doesn’t need to say it for him to know it’s true. Berries on his lips again, kiss after kiss, arms back over his shoulders.

Hawke lets out a small noise of surprise when he bounces her upwards, adjusting his grip on her. He presses his body against hers, teeth around her neck. She groans when he bites down hard, sucks at delicate flesh, leaving an angry mark. Kissing it tenderly, and oh how she whispers in his ear, “I’m yours, I’m yours.” And oh how he is hers. They move together in harmony, a kiss here and there, and all of it is so, is so –

“I hear something,” he says as every movement grinds to a halt. Her head perks up, tilts as she listens. The faintest voices, growing louder as they creep ever slowly in their direction.

“Merrill and Aveline,” Hawke tells him, “probably collecting firewood.” She keeps her legs locked around him so that he is trapped, his cock aching painfully inside of her. So close and yet so far, and he’s doing his best to will some measure of calm into his limbs. He’s startled when he hears Aveline’s voice as clear as day, and knows that they are walking the hillside above where they hide. Hawke punches him in the shoulder and he looks at her, bewildered.

“You almost dropped me!” She fiercely whispers.

“I did not,” he whispers right back.

“Yes you did, I felt it.”

“I did not!”

“You were going to make a run for it, weren’t you?”

“I was not – I would never –”

“Simple is good. It sneaks up on you, makes you smile,” Merrill’s lilting voice cuts into their half-hearted argument, “maybe that should be enough once in a while.” Whispers turn to chuckles, Hawke burying her face in the crook of his neck and shaking with it. He’s trying to keep his own laughter at bay, smiling against her hair. He could just imagine the look on Aveline’s face if she caught them. And Merrill – they would never hear the end of it since she would be sure to tell Isabela right away.

“Simple it is,” they hear Aveline reply.

Hawke lifts her head and looks at him, caught so in her own giggles, and looking at each other only makes it worse. Keeping their faces close together, an errant snort escaping them from time to time, one making the other burst into a renewed fit. Pursed lips, bright eyes, Hawke’s hand clapped over her own mouth. Footsteps and voices slowly move further and further away, and once they seem far enough – the hand moves and the laughter breaks through.

Capturing her joy with his mouth, grinning at each other like absolute idiots. Stuttered laughter falls into momentary silence as he draws out her orgasm, but soon the sound returns. Clinging to each other as his own soon follows, slowly letting her go so that her feet touch ground. Pulling off her last boot, shucking her pants. Pulling the tunic over her head, adding it to the heap. Then she is off, leaping into the river.

Breaking through the surface, pulling back hair from her face. She still has her grin. Rain drops create small ripples, land on her skin. He’s soon joining her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He can’t seem to be rid of the smile that curls his lips, at the lightest feeling which nestles in his chest and turns in his belly. Splashing water at him, enticing him to chase her as she lazily swims away. Their laughter echoes in that space long after the sun has set. It follows them all the way back to camp as they walk hand in hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Rain against glass – that gentle tapping, the droplets falling. Little rivers running down the window pane, blurring out grey buildings and darker skies. Light that rolls through the clouds, gentle thunder rumbling in the distance. It’s all so close and yet so far. Lost in the crackle of the fire, the warm embrace of the blankets. Lying side by side, facing each other, her fingertips drifting up and down his arm. Hair splayed over the pillows, forehead against forehead. Circling his shoulder, resting on his cheek. Brushing a thumb over his cheekbones. Smiling when he closes his eyes to savor the touch.

She’s moving and he moves with her, on his back with hands on her waist as she pins him beneath her. Her legs between his, palms pressing into the mattress beside his head. Leaning down to rub her nose against his, her brand of playful affection. “Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen for us to meet?” Dropping down to her elbows, pinching a strand of his hair between her fingers. His hand drifts lazily over her back, fingers on her spine. “All the things that had to happen exactly the way they did at exactly that time,” she says.

“If Lothering wasn’t attacked when it was,” she says, “if we didn’t leave when we did.” He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“If you weren’t found by witch that could shapeshift into a dragon?”

“Yes! That our ship was one of the few to make it across the Waking Sea. That if we had gotten there sooner we could’ve just been let into the city, or if we had gotten there later… Athenril could have found someone else,” she says.

“If I had not gone to Anso,” he says. “If Anso did not know Athenril.”

“If Athenril didn’t suggest me.”

“If you did not agree to help Anso,” he says, the slightest smile quirking at his lips. She sits up, straddling him beneath her, runs a finger along the shell of his ear. She cocks her head, bites her bottom lip. He knows that look. Some thought is twisting in her head, the words not yet found. He waits patiently, her hands pressing against his chest. His own rest on her thighs, watching as she turns her head. Staring at the window, letting the silence seep into the room. Drop, drop, drop, and the thunder.

“I know that – there are so many – I mean. Not everything _why_ we met was good, but…” Fenris silences her with a thumb running across her lips, pulling her face down to his.

“I am glad to have met you Hawke,” he tells her quietly before the kiss. Listening to the rain as the wind sweeps it against the estate, the sudden raucousness of it before it turns slow once again. The fire burns on steadily, casting light across the room. Flickering across her face, steady on her chest. A glow that dances on her skin, presses against each freckle. Wrapping an arm around her waist before deftly flipping them, trapping her underneath him. Her arms fall beside her, suddenly shy as she looks up at him. Her cheeks flush a brilliant pink, and she quickly covers her eyes with her hands.

“I just keep thinking about how lucky I am to know you,” she says. “That we’re together. If I had never met you – there’s no one that could take your place.” Chuckling under his breath as he slowly moves her hands away. Mimicking her earlier gesture, rubbing his nose against hers. Her hands fidget where they are linked behind his head, her legs tangled up in his. She pulls him down ever closer, threading fingers through his hair.

“I – I had thought after Kirkwall, the business with Anso, that I would simply move on. Choose another place to hide. I had long accepted my fate of being alone,” he tells her. Looking away as the knot furrows between his brows, gritting his teeth together. Gathering courage as he drags his eyes back to hers, does not look away. “You asked me to stay. Told me that I could make a home here, as you did. I… it means more to me that I can say that we made that home together, Hawke.” He hadn’t thought her face could turn even redder.

“I love you,” she says it so quietly, her voice hoarse as her hands cup his face, “you do know that right?”

“I do,” he says, before pressing his lips against hers. She is always accepting, always willing, soft underneath his attentions. He can feel her hands on his back, caressing, pulling, holding tight. His arms curl underneath her, his hands at her shoulders. A circling touch with his finger as both their eyes close, lost in the sensation of the other. Tongue, wet and warm, tracing over her lips, her teeth, her tongue. Teasing and testing, drawing out her groan.

A comforting thing, to be held in her arms. Such a thing used to be a cage, terrifyingly trapped, but here she is… heat and fervor, pleasure and bliss, ardent, avid, amorous, and mesmerizing, a sort of happiness he never thought he’d find. With the kiss he takes in her breath, deep in his lungs, inhaling the life she’s given him. A whimper as one of his hands moves, finds her leg. Pulling it upwards, running down her thigh. Kneading at her hip, and ever upwards.

Her back arches, encouraging him even more, fingers pressing into skin as he finds her breast. He begins with a steady roll, taking pleasure in the weight of it in his hand, before it becomes more focused, more delicate, and he pinches a nipple between his fingers. She gasps not at his touch but at the crack that splits the sky, fills the room with sudden bright light. The thunder follows quickly, a heavy booming thing, and the rain only begins to fall harder.

A smaller kiss over the longer ones, always luring them back for more. She’s writhing beneath him whether she realizes it or not, her legs wrapping around his waist. “Fen,” she breathes before she’s seeking more, the moan in her mouth moving to his. Her hands slip between them, reaching downwards, wrapping a hand around his cock. She guides the head of him to her entrance, moving up and down, through wet folds.

Her hips wriggle downwards, a silent plea, and he kisses the edge of her jaw as, bit by bit, he pushes inside. A shuddering inhale as she wraps her arms back around him. He moves agonizingly slowly, until he’s buried inside her to the hilt. He doesn’t move, not yet, taking a moment to look at her. Eyes half-lidded, eyes on him, mouth open as she struggles to breathe steadily. She squeezes her hands on his shoulders as he kisses her again, and again, and again. “I am yours Hawke,” he says, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck, “I love you.”

He’s practically flattened against her, no space lost between them. His arms back underneath her, holding tightly as he begins to thrust. He peppers her neck with kisses as her eyes flutter closed, biting her bottom lip, feeling so full with him. Her legs hold him just a little tighter, hugs a little harder. Like a puzzle pieces that fit together, meant to be in a way she can’t explain. Running a hand through his hair, breathing softly against his ear. “Fenris.” He loves the way his name sounds on her lips. “Fen.”

They take their time with it, more for the closeness than for the act itself. Wanting each other not just for pleasure but for the reassurance, the reminder, and the promise. _I am yours_ and _you are mine_. A chain that doesn’t need a chain, just a slash of red and puppy eyes. The thunder grows ever further away, a distant groan that can’t reach them anymore. The clouds are beginning to part. The sun filters through, glistening on raindrops. He kisses her to the sound of a birdsong, she holds him in that bed of theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for #sexlaughterhonesty week on tumblr! I hope you guys enjoy and you can always find me on tumblr [@jawsandbones.](http://jawsandbones.tumblr.com/) Cheers!


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